Practice
by CritterKeeper
Summary: With a batch of Counteragent about to go bad, Darien gets a chance to quicksilver guilt-free


This isn't my first fanfic, but it's the first one I've uploaded here, and the first I've posted in quite a while. I haven't seen very many Iman eps, but have caught up a bit via riffs and reviews. Please let me know if there are any inconsistencies!  
  
  
  
  
Practice Makes Perfect  
by CritterKeeper  
  
  
*A writer named Jerome K. Jerome once said, "It is impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty of work to do." Usually, idleness isn't a problem for me. You see, as a secret agent with an invisibility gland that may yet drive me insane, my life is usually pretty thoroughly booked. But every now and then, even secret agents have a boring week, and I was starting to wonder if Fate was gonna notice I was getting bored and step in to remedy the situation. As it happened, my Keeper stepped in instead.*  
  
  
"Darien, thanks for coming by," Claire smiled as Darien entered her lab.  
  
"What's up, Keep?" Darien displayed his wrist tattoo for her. "I've been a good boy, I don't need another shot yet." His voice turned hopeful. "Is it new info on getting this thing out of my head?"  
  
Her smile fell a little. "Sorry, Darien. Still working on that. But," she said, gesturing to the equipment on the counter, "I just finished a new batch of counteragent, and what with not having any missions in the past few days, I'm afraid that the previous batch is on its last legs." She smiled at him. "We have reached the point of use it or lose it. So, I was wondering if you had any suggestions for how we could make use of it before it becomes ineffective."  
  
Darien tried to sound skeptical, but couldn't quite keep the delight out of his voice. "Let me get this straight. All your talk about not using invisibility frivolously, about how expensive this stuff is and how we can't afford to waste it...and now you're telling me we *have* to use it or it'll go bad?"  
  
"Exactly. It's a very fine line, you know. If a strenuous mission had forced you to use your gland heavily, we could be having the opposite problem, waiting with bated breath for the new batch. But if we're to have extra available in case of emergency, then occasionally, when there isn't any emergency, its short shelf life means we have to find some other use for it."  
  
"Oh, I can think of hundreds of uses for it!" Avarice crept into his voice as he thought about all the banks and jewelry stores he could get into and out of in half an hour, given the chance.  
  
"Well, if you think any of your suggestions would meet with the Official's approval...." she trailed off archly.  
  
"Aw, do we have to tell him? Can't we just kind of let this slide?"  
  
"Darien, he and Eberts know how much counteragent I've made and how long it's good for. Any use we make of this is going to have to pass muster with them. In other words, no invisible shopping sprees."  
  
"And here I was going to pick you up a new sweater. Maybe a diamond necklace? No?" He sighed and sank onto the chair near her computer. "So what *did* you have in mind, then?"  
  
"Anything you need practice with. Things you've had to do for missions that have taken longer than you'd like, or were difficult to accomplish. Maintaining invisibility under pressure, or while distracted. Quicksilvering objects, large ones, small ones, moving targets. That's why I wanted your input. Only you know how difficult different applications of selective control are."  
  
Darien sat for a minute or two, thinking. Really thinking about what had happened in his last few missions. "Okay," he said, finally. "I've got a few ideas, but," he grinned up at her with a gleam in his eyes, "some of them are going to involve the rest of us, too."  
  
  
  
The scene was comical, you had to admit that. Claire, Hobbes, The Official and Eberts, all walking as slowly as if they'd dropped a contact, arms spread and waving in the air, listening intently. It was Blind Man's Bluff without any blindfolds.  
  
Suddenly, Claire gasped and jumped forward. A sudden cold spot in the back of her neck, right where she was most ticklish. Everyone immediately turned toward her part of the room.  
  
"Link hands!" The Official called out, and the four of them immediately formed a chain from one wall to another, blocking off the corner of the room. They moved forward slowly, the line shortening. A faint noise, the chair moved back a fraction of an inch as if someone had bumped into it, and suddenly Hobbes leapt forward, arms wide, grabbing at empty air.  
  
Behind them, they heard slow clapping. They turned, and Darien shook off his Quicksilver.  
  
"Not bad at all. Would've been even better if I'd been there...."  
  
"So how'd you do it that time, partner? I mean, we had you trapped."  
  
"You could have. Let me show you...."  
  
They resumed roughly the positions they'd been in, this time with Darien visible. He poked Claire's neck, she jumped, without the gasp, and they formed their human chain. And Darien ducked silently beneath the linked hands between the Official and Eberts.  
  
Everyone groaned a protest. The Official was frustrated, but still constructive. "But we can't reach far enough if we drop our hands lower. So, what's the solution?"  
  
"Try standing with your legs farther apart, and sweep the gap with your toes as often as you can."  
  
The second attempt was more successful. Darien still got through, but Ebert's toe connected with him and they knew where he'd gone.  
  
"So how did you make the chair move like that? As if you'd bumped into it backing away from us?"  
  
Darien reached under a cabinet and pulled out a rubber ball. "Its surface holds the quicksilver even after a bounce or two, it's quiet, and it's easy to hide in my pockets." He held it up and let the quicksilver flow over it, then tossed it at the chair, which moved a half inch again, with only a faint impact that could have been a knee. "Throwing invisible objects and hitting where I aim is one of the games Claire and I played this afternoon," he added smugly.  
  
"Very nice," Hobbes agreed, eyes scanning the floor. After a few moments, the quicksilver fell away from the ball, and he tossed it back to Darien.  
  
"We also practiced quicksilvering larger objects. Remember the dumpster in that alley?" Hobbes nodded. "I may have been nuts then, but the creativity was impressive."  
  
"Did you come up with an upper limit to how big an object you can quicksilver?" the Official asked, all business again.  
  
"A rough idea, yes," Claire replied. "To some extent it depends on the material involved. Some things hold the quicksilver better than others. To cover a large object, Darien has to keep fresh quicksilver flowing enough to replace the stuff that's losing its cohesion as well as to cover additional territory."  
  
Hobbes was practically bouncing on his toes. He knew what was next on the list of skills to practice -- quicksilvering people. The Official had approved, saying there was always a chance that they'd both need to disappear briefly, although sustaining them both would send Darien into quicksilver madness twice as fast as usual. Fifteen minutes, maximum.  
  
"How's the monitor?" Darien showed Claire his wrist -- four segments left. She held up a syringe of counteragent. "This is the last you get to play with. There's enough left after this to bring you back up to full once you've used this up. After that, we're back to conserving in case of a mission."  
  
She allowed Darien to lead her over to a chair on the other side of the room for his injection -- a normal everyday chair, instead of the 'demented dentist's chair' in her lab. The others tried to watch without looking like they were watching, and failed miserably. He could do with the small measure of privacy distance afforded. Claire knew Darien was still uncomfortable about his dependence on the counteragent and hence still embarassed about getting his injection in front of an audience, even this one. She shielded him with her body so they couldn't see the mix of emotions on his face as he waited for his fix.  
  
"How are you holding up? Any ill effects from so much quicksilvering?"  
  
"No, I feel great!" He paused and frowned. "Which, I suppose, could be considered a side effect. It's so hard for me to tell sometimes."  
  
"Well, you seem all right to me," Claire reassured him as she tapped the vein with a finger to make it stand up better. "Happy, but not euphoric. You know what they say, if you're sane enough to wonder whether you're sane, you can't be too far gone. A madman rarely realizes he's mad." The needle found the vein, a small flash of blood in the hub letting her know she was in properly. She stopped talking while she slowly depressed the plunger, knowing his mind was on the sensations within him and not on her.  
  
Not much showed on his face. He held perfectly still for the shot, and after as she withdrew the needle and held off the small puncture so it could seal. Several similar marks had been added to the inside of both elbows today, a bit like a junkie with track marks. Luckily Darien didn't seem to form too much scar tissue, so long as she varied the site of injection long enough to let the veins heal.  
  
Darien gave a slight shudder and opened his eyes again. The emotions at play in his eyes tightened her throat. Pleasure, embarassment, regret, relief. A look that begged her, once again, not to give any hint to the others about what he felt.  
  
"You've been doing something you're good at, improving your skills," Claire continued as if nothing had happened. "You should be happy. It's like getting a good workout." She turned his wrist, giving his hand a discrete reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry about it."  
  
The last of the extra counteragent had turned all but one segment back to green. He would have perhaps twenty minutes of invisibility for himself, or about ten minutes doubled up.  
  
They returned to the group and Darien grinned at Hobbes. "You know what's next, partner!"  
  
Hobbes was looking distinctly nervous now. He was always asking Darien to quicksilver him, but on some level, the idea also creeped him out. Still, everyone was watching and waiting; Hobbes wasn't about to back out.  
  
"So, uh, what do you want me to do?"  
  
"To start with, nothing, just stand there. I'm going to try to cover you with quicksilver, and then stop the flow, with Claire timing how long you stay invisible without me refreshing your supply."  
  
"So, what, I just stand here?" He shrugged. "Sure, I can do that. Just make sure there's a little left to play with after she's through timing, right partner?"  
  
"Don't worry, Hobbes," Darien reassured him.  
  
He moved behind Hobbes and placed a hand on each shoulder. He knew the position was uncomfortable for his partner, allowing someone to stand behind him, where he couldn't see them and they could attack him without warning. But Darien needed the contact, and didn't want his partner to see the silver creeping towards him for fear of freaking him out. Better, this first time, for it to creep up on him from behind.  
  
Concentrating on his heart rate, his respiration, the sweat collecting on his skin, Darien willed his body to begin producing quicksilver, overproducing so that the excess flowed down his arms and onto the man in front of him. Hobbes jumped slightly as it first touched him, and Darien could feel his partner's pulse under his fingertips accelerating as his own jolt of adrenaline affected his system.  
  
Darien's hands and arms never quite faded, the silver clinging and flowing over him too rapidly to properly refract. Hobbes was slowly covered in liquid silver, which then faded to a transparent outline, and then he was gone. Darien could feel his shoulders beneath his hands, but there was nothing left to see. He pulled his arms away and they became fully visible again.  
  
"Open your eyes, partner."  
  
"How could you tell -- oh, wow!"  
  
Darien quicksilvered just his eyes, so he could see his friend's reactions. His partner became an outlined figure, glowing faintly green. Hobbes was looking about the room, craning his neck but staying in one place as ordered. Darien had deliberately chosen a position where Hobbes could see the others easily. He stepped back into Hobbes' field of view as well.  
  
"It's all kind of black and white, but it isn't. Man, this is freaky. Is this the way you always see?" He held up a hand, turned it over curiously, then looked back at the room. "Hey, how come I can see you guys but not myself?"  
  
"I don't know, Bobby. Just one of the mysteries of quicksilver, I guess."  
  
Hobbes had turned towards Darien's voice, and now Darien could see him looking intently at Darien's face, then at the others'. "Is that you, Fawkes? Have you got your eyes all silver? 'Cos they are glowing, man! Kind of a golden color."  
  
"You think that's cool, partner? Watch this!" He let the quicksilver flow again, rendering himself invisible with practiced ease. Now, he knew, his whole body would be that weird glowing amorphous outline he'd seen Arnaud as during their fight.  
  
"Oh, yeah, that is definitely cool. And freaky. Man, this whole thing is freaky."  
  
Just as Hobbes was starting to get nervous about the whole thing, the quicksilver began transforming, first around his head and neck, then down the rest of his body, going from invisible to silver and dissolving in a shower of little sparkles. He blinked rapidly and rubbed at his eyes. Darien followed him back into visibility.  
  
"Not bad," Claire commented, noting the time on her stopwatch. "Not bad at all."  
  
"That's it?" Hobbes asked, although he was secretly relieved.  
  
"Well, it's not long enough to get very far," the Official observed, "but it could sure come in handy if you're sneaking around some place and someone hears you." He seemed very pleased with the day's efforts. "Now let's see how long you can sustain it. Fawkes, you ready?"  
  
"Yes, sir!" Darien responded, only half insolently. "Hobbes, you ready?"  
  
"Cellophane me."  
  
"You want to see it coming this time?"  
  
"Guess I'd better. We might not always be able to pick and choose how we do this."  
  
Darien stood in front of his partner this time and placed his hands back on the other man's shoulders. He willed the quicksilver to begin flowing. Once it hit Hobbes, its natural viscosity got it up his neck and over his head, as well as over the rest of him. All Darien had to do was send it in the right direction.  
  
He could see Hobbes following the stuff's progress, see his pupils dilating as the agent felt it crawling up his neck and towards his mouth and eyes, see the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead just before they were covered and vanished, but these were the only reactions Hobbes betrayed. Darien hadn't done nearly so well his first time. Of course, Darien hadn't known what to expect; Hobbes had seen Darien quicksilver a hundred times.  
  
As an experiment, Darien narrowed down the area he secreted quicksilver until only the palms he was touching Hobbes with were affected. To the outside, it looked as if a normal Darian Fawkes was standing with his arms in midair, touching nothing. He removed one hand, still refreshing the quicksilver with the other. There was a faint shimmer, then the invisibility became perfect again.  
  
"Interesting," the Official mused, cogs turning visibly in his brain.  
  
Such fine control was hard work, though, and Darien was getting tired of it. He allowed the flow to spread out across his body normally, and quickly silvered and disappeared. His hand slid to the middle of Hobbes' back, and Darien quietly guided him about the room.  
  
"Your shoes are squeaking," Claire called to Hobbes, grinning. She couldn't follow Darien's progress in his sneakers, but Hobbes was another story.  
  
They made their way around the room as quietly as they could, until they stood just behind Eberts. Darien let the quicksilver fall away from his free hand long enough to give him a quick bunny-ears, then vanished again as the others laughed. Eberts turned, missed him, and swung his arms to find them. He caught hold of Hobbes' sleeve, then jumped back, shaking his hand from the cold of the contact.  
  
Guiding his partner around the room, Darien quietly turned the knob on the door, then swung it open and dragged Hobbes with him out into the hall.  
  
"Darien! Where are you going?"  
  
"You can follow along, Claire! Just listen for Hobbes' shoes. We're going outside for a minute."  
  
Hobbes balked. "Outside? Fawkes, are you kidding?"  
  
"We've got time, partner, and you really should get to see more than just the inside of this lab and these three mugs."  
  
Claire appeared in the doorway and Darien shoved Hobbes towards the stairwell. They made plenty of noise going up, the other three following them easily. Darien noted with relief that the Official did *not* order him back inside. This must be a use he approved of.  
  
Darien found that, with movement, the old quicksilver came loose from Hobbes faster, so that he had to increase the flow of fresh material in order to keep his partner invisible. That was worth remembering. He never noticed such a difference when it was only himself he quicksilvered.  
  
They reached the fire exit at the back of the building and emerged into the alley. Hobbes brought his arm up to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight.  
  
"Man, is it always this bright, or is it because we've been down there in the dark?"  
  
"It's always like this in sunshine. We are seeing all the UV light that the sunscreen makers warn us about. But don't worry, your eyes'll adjust."  
  
The door clanged behind them as the Keeper emerged, followed by the Official and Eberts. Darien and Hobbes had to step forward quickly to avoid their crashing into them.  
  
"Fawkes? Hobbes? Where are you?"  
  
"We're right here, Claire, no need to shout," Darien replied quietly.  
  
Hobbes stepped away from Darien briefly, slipped behind the others, and closed the fire door behind them with a crash, making all three visible people jump. He rejoined Darien with a high-five only they saw. Darien quickly returned his hand to Hobbes' shoulder and let fresh quicksilver flow over him again.  
  
"Hey, did you see that?" Claire pointed at where they were standing, squinting.  
  
"See what?"  
  
"That shimmer. Like heat haze. Darien, what happened just then?"  
  
"Hobbes had stepped away from me. That was when we got back in contact and I started the quicksilver flowing over him again."  
  
"Very interesting," the Official observed.  
  
Darien quietly steered Hobbes towards the end of the alley, and they stood by the wall, watching people passing by on the street. He was starting to feel that familiar ache, in his eyes and in the back of his neck, but he wanted Bobby to get a chance to see some of the world through quicksilvered eyes before they returned inside.  
  
Claire seemed most adept at catching the subtle little noises of an invisible person walking, and had little trouble following their progress. She was tempted to call out to them, but knew that Darien had gotten quite good at judging his limits. He'd developed a remarkable amount of common sense in the last few months. Surely he'd know better than to try to take Hobbes, new as he was to invisibility, out into the crowded sidewalk.  
  
"Look over there, Hobbes," Darien said, pointing a glowing hand across the street. "You see those flowers?"  
  
"Yeah, so? You want us to take time to stop and smell them?"  
  
"No, but look at the pattern, the stripes, like landing strips to guide the bees right to the pollen."  
  
"Very pretty," Hobbes said impatiently.  
  
"Hobbes," Darien said with exasperation, "those flowers are white. There's no pattern, no color. Except in the ultraviolet range. Higher spectrums of light. Us and the bees."  
  
"Very poetic."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
Eberts' voice behind them startled them a little. "I hadn't thought about that, but we could leave messages for Fawkes, written in ultraviolet-colored ink. No one else could see them but him."  
  
"Good idea, Eberts," the Official concurred. "See if you can track down something appropriate."  
  
"Uh, Hobbes?" Darien asked, "Do you think you've seen enough?" His voice sounded strained. The headache was coming, he could feel it already.  
  
Hobbes stepped away from Darien, giving him instant permission to stop the flow of quicksilver, and called the Keeper over.  
  
"Let's get him back inside," she instructed.  
  
Hobbes, still covered in the residual quicksilver, could touch Darien directly; the Keeper pulled on a pair of gloves and put his other arm across her shoulder. They hustled him down the alley. They were out of sight of passersby but not yet inside when the attack hit him.  
  
Quicksilver fell away in a shower of glitter as Darien cried out in pain, hand flying to the back of his neck. The cascade set off Hobbes' quicksilver as well, and they became visible in quick succession. Eberts got the door open and held it as the others hurried Darien back inside and down the stairs.  
  
"My lab," the Keeper ordered. They got Darien into the lab and seated in his usual chair by the time the attack had completely faded. He looked up at the Keeper, readying the last syringe of counteragent from the old batch.  
  
"Guess the party's over, huh?"  
  
"You should have warned me you were so close."  
  
"I wanted to get in all that I could. Who knows when I'll have the chance again?"  
  
His eyes were bloodshot, the first signs of impending Quicksilver Madness, but he was still basically in control. Besides, the others were still hovering around, ready to jump in if he tried anything. He held out his arm expectantly, ignoring the little voice starting up in the back of his head telling him he could get away if he really tried.  
  
The injection brought a wash of relief, the ache in his head and his eyes fading almost instantly. He lay blissfully for a moment, letting the counteragent spread through his system and eliminate the overload of quicksilver. The further gone he was, the more the injection wiped him out, but this was a happy, peaceful lassitude.  
  
Claire touched his shoulder. "Are you alright?"  
  
He opened his eyes, realized they were the only two left in the room. "Where'd everybody go?"  
  
"You conked out for a minute there. I told them to leave you in peace."  
  
She checked the tattoo on the inside of his wrist. It was completely green.  
  
"Full up. Ready for another six days of boredom, or half an hour of activity, whichever comes first." She helped him out of the chair and ushered him to the door.  
  
"Claire?" He stopped them before she could open the door and send him on his way. "Thank you. I think I learned a lot from that."  
  
"That's the idea," she replied happily. "I've got all sorts of data, and who knows, some of it may lead to a better way to control the gland's effects, or even to a way of getting it safely out of your skull."  
  
"And you've got to admit, it was fun watching the Official waving his arms around like that." Darien grinned, mostly in response to Claire's rare smile. "Let's do it again some time."  
  
"I'm sure we will, Darien." She opened the door and gently pushed him out. "Now, go get some rest!"  
  
The door closed with a gentle click, and Darien, hands shoved into his pockets, strolled down the hall, whistling.  
  
*"It should be noted," Michel de Montaigne once said, "that children's games are not merely games; one should regard them as their most serious activities." Well, today's fun and games had a serious purpose -- testing the limits of my abilities, practicing my skills, teaching the others how best to catch an invisible man. But I think that when it comes to play, I prefer Martin Buber, who said, "Play is the exultation of the possible." That was what made today so much fun. Not the practical benefits, but the sheer joy of doing for the sake of doing.*  
  
  



End file.
